


More than Words

by lego_hearts



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Perrie's boobs, Zerrie with a baby, body issues, domestic Zerrie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lego_hearts/pseuds/lego_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'His fingers leave her hips and start to fiddle with the the impractically tiny buttons of her blouse, working his way down. Their lips brush again with every button he undoes, and Perrie feels the old familiar prickle of arousal starting in her belly, despite all of her wanting to cringe away from him. She hates the bra she's wearing. She hates all of her bras at the moment, they feel so heavy, so padded to stop her leaking through to her clothes. They make her feel ugly even if the bras themselves aren't. And they're not uncomfortable. She's been wearing them all through the nights, too, for fear of waking up with wet sheets.'</p>
<p>Perrie and Zayn are new parents, Perrie is insecure about her body, but she is always beautiful to Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from, but here it is. Some domestic but kinky Zerrie! It's actually the first time I've written het so I'm a little bit apprehensive about how this reads, and I don't have anyone I can coerce into beta reading, so if there's anything horribly amiss, please let me know.
> 
> The title is awful as well. I'm basking in my own fail right now.

"Do you think everything's okay with them?" Harry asks, sidling up to Louis who is, for all intents and purposes, sat up on an amp as though he's the king of the world. Louis looks down, then looks over to where Harry's subtle head movement has indicated, seeing Perrie sitting alone stage side, her attention focussed solely on four month old Jayesh, who is trying to eat his mum's chunky bead necklace and failing to get his tiny mouth around even one bead. 

Zayn is nowhere in sight.

Louis swings his legs and frowns slightly, and Harry appreciates that Louis is the kind of man who will actually think about an answer before he gives it, won't just say what he thinks wants to be heard. 

"I don't know," he admits after a lengthy pause in which Harry has had to rub his slightly sweaty hands on his jeans, his eyes now desperately scanning the surrounding area, the scaffolding, various instruments, lighting rigs, to see if Zayn is hiding behind any of them. "You don't-" Louis hesitates and Harry can see the conflict on his face when he looks back up at him. Honesty with Harry means saying something bad about Zayn, and though he loves them differently, Louis does love them both. "You don't see him with Jay that much," he says, as diplomatically as he possibly can. 

Harry nods in agreement. "Should-"

"No, we should leave them to it," Louis cuts Harry off before he can finish his sentence. "We might make it worse."

This tour is only short, four dates, a comeback burst after a fifteen month hiatus in which there were marriages and babies a-plenty. Four dates and Perrie has come along, but awkwardly none of the rest of the band can work out if it's just for show or if she really wants to be spending this time with Zayn, because it's just over a week of being away and she looks exhausted. She could have just come to the show in the north west. No one would have blamed her. It would have been preferable to them all feeling awkward about her seclusion, anyway. 

 

They sound check. The lights all seem to work. Zayn has appeared but Perrie has disappeared because the noise is too much for Jay. None of them as Zayn where he's been (or with whom) because he looks so tired, too. And Zayn is hideous when he's tired and annoyed. 

He stretches even as he's walking back to the hotel room, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbing. His keycard is wedged into his back pocket and it takes two swipes for it to work because he's warmed it up too much. But finally it opens and he steps into the room, a smile already creeping over his face. 

Perrie is standing by the bed, pulling her hair up, standing over Jay who lays on his back now trying to shove his fist into his mouth. 

"Hi," Perrie smiles as Zayn strides towards her, giggling as he sweeps her into his arms and dips her into a kiss. 

"Hello. And hello, young man!" Zayn turns to their son, scooping him up and blows a raspberry on his neck. Jay laughs a hearty baby laugh and Zayn grins stupidly. "Is he ready for bed?"

"No, well, he needs a bath," Perrie replies, letting her hair go again, unable to decide what she wants to do with it. He smile is soft as she watches them, her eyes a little damp. 

"Oh, well," Zayn bounces Jay gently in his arms,pressing his nose against his soft baby hair. "What do you think mummy would say about us all having a bath together?" he asks, though Jay just continues to laugh as the tickle of his father's breath.

"Zayn," Perrie rolls her eyes. "Come on."

Zayn raises his eyebrows and looks at Jay as though his son will back him up on this. "I'm going to take that as a yes," he says softly, laying their son back down on the bed before turning to enter their adjoining bathroom.

Perrie rolls her eyes in his absence, going to Jay to ease him from his tiny onesie, only to feel Zayn's hand wrapping around her middle, pulling her back against his body.

She can hear the rush of water filling the bath and judging by the warmth of Zayn's body behind her, he is already shirtless.

She can't help but laugh when he spins her to face him, her hands coming to rest against his (as she had expected) bare chest.

"Zayn," she says again in the same almost tired tone, the tone of someone who has said so many times before. Their lips meet and she's half surprised at how gently he kisses her, his thumbs stroking the curves of her hips above her jeans, hips that are still too big.

"It's okay," he says quietly. "I promise, it's kay.

His fingers leave her hips and start to fiddle with the the impractically tiny buttons of her blouse, working his way down. Their lips brush again with every button he undoes, and Perrie feels the old familiar prickle of arousal starting in her belly, despite all of her wanting to cringe away from him. She hates the bra she's wearing. She hates all of her bras at the moment, they feel so heavy, so padded to stop her leaking through to her clothes. They make her feel ugly even if the bras themselves aren't. And they're not uncomfortable. She's been wearing them all through the nights, too, for fear of waking up with wet sheets. 

But Zayn is gentle. He doesn't push. He hasn't pushed her. It's been four month and she hasn't only allowed him to see her naked briefly. Less than a handful of times. And they haven't had sex since before Jay was born. But Zayn is, was, always has been gentle. 

He blouse hangs open and Perrie squeezes her eyes closed as Zayn's fingers ease the fabric from her shoulders, as though bracing herself for something. HIs fingers trace down her ribs and return to her hips and she feels her eyes sting behind her closed lids when he inches back from her, knowing he's looking. She's denied him that for so long, but she's soft still. Soft in all the wrong places. She hasn't been able to shift all of her baby weight yet, her belly is still a little bit round and decorated with stretch marks, her hips curve out more, her thighs touch. She's not as slim and toned and tight as she was when they got married. 

Zayn's lips touch hers again, and Perrie sobs softly, not daring to open her eyes lest she cry properly. 

"You're so beautiful," Zayn whispers the words, pressing them to her lips with kisses whilst his touch flutters around her navel as though his fingers are hungry for the sensation of her skin beneath them. 

Perrie feels goosebumps on her skin and they follow the path Zayn's hands take back up her ribs before his fingers slide around to her back, following the strap of her bra.

Zayn unhooks the clasp with practised ease, but he doesn't remove it straight away. Perrie is very still as his touch moves down her spine, following the now clear trail from the base of her neck to the small of her back, up and down. 

The bath is still running. Their lips linger close to each other. Zayn doesn't push her. The seconds seems to roll on for so long, as though she has been counting this trail up and down her back for hours, but it's barely a minute, a minute where neither of them say anything, but with no words Zayn manages to ease her into a complete sense of calm. Why now, why she's finally accepting this now she doesn't know. But she smiles into his kiss and moves to slide the straps of her bra from her shoulders, tossing it aside as he draws her in close again, a shiver running through her as her nipples touch his chest. 

The knock at the door resounds loudly around the room and both of them smile a the hideously bad timing. Zayn sighs kissing Perrie once, twice, and pressing a whispered 'I love you' quickly between the second and third, one hand lingering on her stomach for a purposefully extended moment before he goes to open the door.

Perrie's cheeks have flushed, the way they did the very first time he told her he loved her, her fingers coming to touch her lips where the words seem to tingle. She turns, grabs a dressing gown from the chair and then goes to the bathroom to turn off the taps. On second thoughts, since she's there, Perrie unbuttons her jeans, wriggling out of them and kicking them into the corner of the backroom. She's back in time to catch the conversation at the door.

It's Niall. Zayn looks at him quizzically and Niall gazes back as though not quite sure why he's there, standing in an otherwise empty corridor, outside Zayn's room.

"Sup, bro?" Zayn prompts, hand on one bare hip, the other propping him up in the door frame. "We- we were just wondering if you wanted to come and play FIFA or-" over Zayn's shoulder Niall can see Perrie, dressing gown clutched around her, bending over the baby on the bed. 

"Ah," Zayn starts, his attempt at beginning to politely decline Niall's offer when all he really want to do is say 'hell no!' because he's about to have a bath with his family and he gets to touch his wife, but those seem like extraneous details, so he just glances back at Perrie. Because well, hot girl he's married to dressed in nothing but a bathrobe? Yeah, FIFA ain't that good.

"You can go if you want to," Perrie says, the tone in her voice making Zayn tingle because she's teasing him. She's teasing him so he must have done something very right. Teasing him because she knows he isn't going to go now. She's confident he won't, and Zayn hasn't seen her confident in herself for too long. 

"Woman, be quiet," Zayn replies over his shoulder, smirk on his face, catching Perrie's eye before she turns her face away in a smile. Zayn looks back to Niall, missing the expression that flickers over his face; a mixture of confusion and alarm. "Nah, bro," Zayn says, unphased. "I'm staying in with the missus." 

He gives Niall a jovial little salute, then closes the door before waiting for a final word.

Perrie smiles as Zayn stalks back towards her, his fingers having some trouble with the button on his jeans, but he manages just before he reaches her, not hesitating in his movement as he slips his hands beneath her dressing gown and pulls her close. 

She lets out a little laugh at the way Zayn's eyebrows raise, realising she has less clothes on than he left her in, and because she is smiling for the first time in a long time Zayn's heart feels so much lighter. It's certainly one thing telling her she's beautiful, it's a whole nother skill to get her to believe it.

"Bath time," he murmurs, and Perrie nods.

Zayn gets in first. The water is deep and warm, though he prefers his baths hot, but he's running it for their baby. 

Perrie passes Jay to him, though the little boy wriggles and kicks somewhat apprehensively a being handed down into the water. Zayn hushes him, cooing, lowering him in gradually and keeping his attention solely on Jay until Perrie has slid off her dressing gown and stepped out of her underwear, climbing in with them both and settling herself between Zayn’s legs. Jay is passed forward to her so that she can lean back against her husband’s chest. Beneath the water his fingers rest against her stomach, and Jay finally feels comfortable resting on her legs, slapping the water with his hands and gurgling a commentary.

Zayn’s breath tickles her neck, though other than that he is completely still as Perrie washes their son, with the exception of a small smile whenever Jay laughs his funny baby laugh.

It’s only when Perrie draws Jay to her chest a few minutes later, when their son’s head has started to nod, that Zayn shifts, moving forward to better see Jay resting peacefully against his wife’s breast. It’s overwhelming. The sight of the woman he loves and the tiny person who is such an elegant mix of the both of them. His grip on Perrie tightens and only then does she turn her head to look at him, so close. She’s almost positive she can see tears in his eyes but he’s kissing her before she can really see. 

 

Zayn has pulled on some shorts to sleep in, and Perrie some new underwear and a tshirt. It’s the first night in a long time that she’s going to bed without a bra on, and it surprises her just how sexy such a simple thing can make her feel. Of course Zayn’s touches before, his utter dedication to making her feel good certainly hasn’t hurt, but when she climbs in beside him this time she is really laying beside him, not shying away from the heat of his body. it takes maybe a minute for him to realise she isn’t moving away from him to cuddle closer, sliding an arm around her. It’s nice, feeling him there, the firmness of his body. She sighs, content, and swears she can hear him smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Zayn looks surprised to see her, remembering with a start that she is here and they will be alone tonight and God she looks good, and the adrenaline is pumping through him enough that he cannot possibly conceal the hunger in his expression as he looks at his wife. The momentum with which he had appeared slows to almost nothing as he stops before her. 
> 
> “Well, hello,” he rasps, as though they’ve never met before, but then they’re both leaning into each other and kissing in a dirty and almost desperate way, as though they’ve been apart for months and not mere hours.'
> 
> Zayn and Perrie's first night alone since their son was born. There is a lot of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, as with the last chapter, I haven't had anyone read through this, so if there's anything that needs to change or looks ridiculous or reads badly please let me know. 
> 
> Bother me on tumblr, too. thisissignalfire.tumblr.com or, for all your 1D needs likefallinginlove.tumblr.com

The following night, the night of the show in the north-east is the first they will spend alone without Jay. He’s spending the night with Perrie’s parents, since Zayn’s are coming to the show. It’s difficult for Perrie to leave him, when they’ve had an early start and driven up, when Zayn has already said goodbye and very obviously, reluctantly, driven off for interviews and soundchecks and to meet his family when they arrive. Perrie waits until the last possible minute before she starts to get ready. Tonight she’s daring to dress up a little bit. Daring to try and feel pretty. She has a dress she’s been thinking about wearing for a long time, but again her thighs and stomach and hips and boobs- normally she wouldn’t complain about them being very prominent, she wouldn’t complain about them being boosted up, but she’s sure they just make her look fat now. The dress hangs to just above her knees. It’s white most, with blue splashes of colour, as though someone has spilt watercolour paint on it. Zayn loves it. She loves Zayn.

Without Jay, Perrie stands stageside to watch the show. She’d arrived too late to see them all beforehand, the painful nerves of leaving her baby for the first time stealing her time, but she’s there before they’ve started the first song even. Zayn already looks gorgeous. He is radiant on stage. He looks so at home there. 

Perrie retreats to the backstage corridor before they rush off of the stage, leaning almost nervously against the wall, clutching her handbag, waiting. Her hands alternately drift down to fiddle with the hem of her dress, to smooth over her stomach or adjust the line around her breasts. She listens to the last noises of the crowd with honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach as the boys bid their fans a good night and head off stage.

Liam is off first and does a double take when he sees Perrie, blinking at her before the smallest hint of a smirk tugs on his lips. “Pez,” he nods, just as the raucous laughter of Harry and Louis catches up with them, followed by the boys themselves, being rather handsy. Their laughter drifts away, replaced by a flirty little wolf whistle from Louis and the kind of up and down look that would have earned any other man a slap in the face. 

“Hey, hottie,” Harry adds, winking, just as Zayn appears. 

Zayn looks surprised to see her, remembering with a start that she is here and they will be alone tonight and God she looks good, and the adrenaline is pumping through him enough that he cannot possibly conceal the hunger in his expression as he looks at his wife. The momentum with which he had appeared slows to almost nothing as he stops before her. 

“Well, hello,” he rasps, as though they’ve never met before, but then they’re both leaning into each other and kissing in a dirty and almost desperate way, as though they’ve been apart for months and not mere hours. 

Niall sneaks past as quietly as possible. 

Perrie’s heart thumps hard in her chest and she feels the thrill of arousal course through her at the way Zayn’s hands roam shamelessly over her body, groping and needy. Handbag abandoned on the floor at her feet, her own hands have slid up to twist through his hair, holding his mouth to hers as though he might dare to move away. 

Heat pours from his body, sweat shows through his shirt and beads on his neck and temples and he smells so manly. Between that and the kisses Perrie is breathless, and she wants.

They are alone in the corridor, their foreheads pressed together, panting breaths against each other’s lips. They are pressed tightly together so that Perrie can feel his heart beating, her breasts pressed firm against his chest. One of Zayns’ hands has found the hem of her dress and his fingers graze lightly over the back of her thighs. 

“You should shower at the hotel,” she whispers, then grins as she hears Zayn such in a breath as though that’s the dirtiest thing he has ever heard.

“As you wish,” he manages to rasp out.

The hotel is no more than five minutes up the road. Call it ten for post-gig traffic. They have a drivers on hand, even though all of them drove themselves here, as they have been at all of the other venues due to baby seats and the like. But tonight they are without, and Zayn and Perrie decide to go all out and let themselves be driven. The others will probably all shower and do the decent thing and stay to meet their fans, but Zayn can’t quite find it in himself to feel bad about missing them. Not tonight. 

He holds open the door for Perrie and she climbs in behind the driver, Zayn following, hands on her lower back, before it drops to her bare leg, resting just above her knee. Even that is making him shiver with anticipation. Perrie’s skin tingles from the point of contact all the way up between her legs and when she shifts slightly, when his hand changes position a little with her movement, she can feel how wet she is. She hesitates briefly before placing her hand over Zayn’s. For a moment he thinks she means to push him away, but her fingers are firm, holding his grip there. Then, with obvious intent, she leads his hand up her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. Both of them bite their lips in a bid to stay as quiet as possible as the car creeps down the road and thank God for the tinted windows because Zayn is sure he looks completely dazed with want and Perrie’s cheeks are pink.

Perrie still hates her thigh, but Zayn has showed no obvious signs of revulsion, and even when she takes her hand away from his his fingers continue to inch up until he can brush them over the front of her underwear. Perrie shivers visibly, aching between her legs, desperate to buck her hips forward into his touch but knowing she really can’t, not here. Briefly she wonders if he is hard, too, if she can still get him going like that from something so simple, but she only needs to look at him, to look at the way he bites his bottom lip, his already dark eyes half-lidded and almost black in the dim light of the back of the car. She knows that look well. He glances her way and they share a smile before he moves in an oh-so-casual way and presses his hand fully against her, his fingers curving to fit between her legs, his middle finger rubbing briefly against a small, wet spot-

Perrie’s hips buck that time, and she slaps his hands away, making Zayn laugh with glee. He resumes resting his palm innocently against her thigh and their fingers lace together, both of them smirking in a most obvious fashion. 

 

“Wait, wait!” Zayn demands as the car stops outside their hotel and he gets out, scurrying around to open the door for his wife and offering her a hand out. “Cheers, mate-” he adds distractedly to the driver, before he takes Perrie’s hand in his own and leads her into the hotel.

He feels as though he’s twenty again and getting in as many gropes as he can whilst they are together, before one of them leaves again. It’s the same passion in their touches, the same want that used to come after weeks of not seeing each other. And it feels as though he hasn’t seen Perrie like this in so long, flushed and beaming and giving him that look that goes straight to his cock. She is beautiful as a mother, stunning, his sexual attraction to her hasn’t waned a bit, no matter her own feelings, but like this she is something else, radiant in her renewed confidence.

They all but fall into the lift and Perrie presses him against the wall, her hand sandwiched between them, cupping him. She looks pleased with herself, and Zayn wants to tell her than nothing ever changed, she has always turned him on.

“You’re hard,” she whispers, leaning up to brush their lips close but not quite kissing.

“You’re wet,” Zayn replies, feeling a sense of pride at the absolute truth of those words.

“I really am,” Perrie laughs, as though surprised by her own sexuality.

Although Zayn would dearly love to do many things to her in the life, the rude up is just not long enough, though they don’t bother to break apart as the doors slide back, only grabbing at each other to make their way down the corridor to their room.

Zayn has her pinned to the door, his hands resting against her bottom where her dress has ridden up. Perrie scrambles frantically in her bag for the keycard, panting softly as Zayn’s lips press to her neck.

“Zayn,” she whines, her voice carrying a pleading tone for him, both him in general and for him to stop for a moment so that they can open the door. His cock is hard against her thigh and there’s no need for gentle patience now, but Goddamn they need to get the door open.

Zayn, mind slightly foddy, realises Perrie can’t read the card slot no matter how flexible she is, takes it from her. it takes three attempts for him to stem his urgency enough to slide the card through at a speed it can be read, and then the door is open.

Zayn’s arms wrap around his wife again, and he lifts her, ignoring Perrie’s squeals of protest that she is too heavy because she isn’t. Not at all. Her legs wrap around him and Zayn carries her into their room, kicking the door closed awkwardly behind them. 

Perrie laughs as she is dumped onto the bed, the skirt of her dress hiking up to her waist. She toes off her shoes and ties to push her dress down again, but Zayn’s hands stop her, resting against her parted thighs. Perrie’s breathing hitches and her laughter stops immediately, her eyes glued on Zayn’s face as he watches her in turn. She tries to quell the feeling of insecurity about her body, tries not to shy away from him and his heavy gaze. Her legs are hanging over the edge of the bed, knees bent, and Zayn is standing between them. She watches him kick his own shoes to the side and then, for a moment, their eyes meet. Just a second, and she feels a lightness inside of her. 

In one graceful movement Zayn is on his knees, and Perrie lets out a surprised moan as his warm breath suddenly skims the inside of her thigh. She relinquishes her hold on the hem of her dress and transfers her fingers to Zayn’s hair, biting hard on her lip to stifle the noises he is effortlessly drawing from her as he kisses his way up her legs. When his mouth closes over her through her underwear she can’t hold back her moan, bucking against his tongue as it presses between her legs.

Zayn’s eyes lift when he pulls back slightly, and once again their eyes meet, his searching hers for any sign of uncertainty before he continues, his fingers sliding down from where they have been gripping her leg, hooking them beneath the edge of her underwear and pulling it aside. 

“Okay?” he whispers, the ghost of a breath making Perrie shiver again. She nods, once, and then sobs with pleasure as his tongue flicks out against her clit.

It has been a long time since even she touched herself, and she is so turned on that she can already feel the tight heat twist in her belly. Zayn’s tongue gently circles her clit, just there, a slow, torturous motion that makes Perrie come in seconds, crying out as her body trembles on the bed. The rush of pleasure is intense, everything a blinding white behind her closed eyelids, her muscles tense as she pushes up against his mouth, her fingers in his hair tightening. She feels him smirk with deserved smugness as he continues to lick at her, driving her hard through her orgasm until she pulls his head away, panting and trembling. 

“Zayn, oh my God,” Perrie gasps, her fingers twitching against the strands of hair curled around them. “Here. Come here,” she urges, and he obediently moves up her body until they can kiss, his hips fitting against hers, his erection hard against her stomach.

One of Zayn’s hands runs heavily up her side and gropes at one of her breasts, and again Perrie arches into the touch, drunk on her newly revived desire and the way that he wants her. She draws her legs up as they kiss, wrapping them around Zayn’s waist, encouraging him to grind against her and relishing the harsh rub of his jeans against her over sensitive skin.

“Hang on,” Zayn whispers, his voice strained as he forces himself up, Perrie’s legs dropping onto the bed again. She watches him once more fumble with the buttons on his jeans, his hands trembling, until he can push the down his thighs. His cock is very obvious through his right black underwear. Zayn kicks his jeans off with surprising grace and then moves back to the bed to resume his position, but he is halted by Perrie’s foot pressing against his chest. 

“Shirt too,” she demands, smiling, watching with very obvious desire as he peels his t-shirt from his body. Perrie aches for him, he is so gorgeous.

“Better?” he asks, grabbing her knees before she can either reply or nudge him away again, but Perrie is very compliant now, and spreads her legs once more to allow him to crawl between them. With another small smirk Zayn’s fingers run back up her legs and hook into the waistband of her underwear, tugging it down roughly and discarding it across the room. Perrie whimpers, but Zayn is looking up at her, she can hear the short pants of his breath and can see the way his cock strains against the confines of his underwear. She did that. Made him hard. She did that. 

The heat is radiating from Zayn again as he presses against her, and her nails run slowly up and down his bare back, their lips pressing together in a slow, deep kiss. Zayn’s hands wedge just beneath her shoulders, holding Perrie against his body, so that with her legs wrapped around him they are comfortably tangled together. 

Then he flips them over.

Perrie squeaks at the sudden rapid change of position, but Zayn has an arm firmly pressed to her back, holding her close as he inches them up the bed to lean against the headboard. Perrie is astride his thighs and he can feel how wet she is against his legs. It’s taking a lot to not just pull her into his lap, to have her ride him right this second. 

Not that Perrie isn’t thinking the same thigh, not when she can rock forward and press against the shape of his cock in his underwear, not when he shudders the way he does and his eyelashes flutter and God, she’s forgotten how beautiful he looks when he comes. 

“Zayn-” she breathes with another slow rock forward, but he shakes his head, not yet, both hands stroking a trail up her back to the top of her dress, dragging the zipper down slowly until the straps slide from Perrie’s shoulders, the fabric bunching up around her waist, leaving her in nothing but her bra. This one is prettier than the one she wore yesterday, but it’s still bulky, still makes her feel unsexy, but she is hardly in the position to protest that when Zayn is licking the tops of her breast, his tongue dipping down into her cleavage and then over to the other. His hands rest beneath, thumbs rubbing firm circles over the padded cups so that she can feel his touch against her nipples. Her hips buck, wanting, and with some hesitance, Perrie reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, letting it fall from her to be discarded on the floor beside them. 

She holds in a deep breath as Zayn looks at her, hands still resting beneath the curve of each of her breasts, her nipples wet from the milk inside them. As Zayn runs a thumb over one Perrie’s whole body shudders with pleasure, though she can’t ignore the bead of milk that is now on Zayn’s thumb. She wants to apologise, which is ridiculous, but he turns his gaze up to her and smiles. 

“Can I?” he asks, and where Perrie thought there would be some hesitance in her, some shock at his request it doesn’t feel wrong. He is the father of her child. This isn’t wrong. 

Perrie nods her head and smiles with all sincerity, the muscles in her lower body fluttering with anticipation as Zayn’s lips close around one of her nipples. Her whole body jerks again with the wave of pleasure that rushes through her, the way his tongue curls around her nipple and the way his facial hair brush against the sensitive skin of her breast- she used to love the attention he paid to her breasts, she’s missed it, she feel sexy. When Zayn hums, another old trick of his, Perrie responds with a choked back moan, twisting her fingers in his hair to hold him in place, her other hand moving down between them to stroke his cock. 

Zayn groans, lifting his hips up to push into her hand. He wants her. So much. It’s been so long since she touched him. His groan vibrates her breast and he feels Perrie shiver again. Her fingers against the back of his head hold him in place, and he licks and sucks enthusiastically at her nipple. It is odd - just slightly odd - to taste the milk that she is making. It is sweet, certainly not anything to oppose, and there’s something about it that just heightens his desire for her, to know that her body is capable of doing this, of making him a child, sustaining their child, it’s something to marvel at. Perhaps it is something rather animalistic in him, but it makes him want her more, makes him all the more sexually attracted to his wife-

Perrie’s back is arched slightly, whimpering consistently as Zayn suckles on her nipples, her fingers moving slowly over the shape of his cock through his underwear. She needs him naked. She needs him inside her. Her body aches to have him inside her. She fumbles to pull his underwear down one handed, and it isn’t easy, even when Zayn lifts his hips again to try and aid her. He finally has to pull away from her breast, his expression slightly dazed with his lust, gazing up at Perrie as she kneels to pull his underwear down his thighs, the same rough way he had undressed her before. She stares almost breathlessly at his cock as it lays against his stomach, and Zayn is staring at her breasts again.

“I need you,” Perrie rasps, pushing at Zayn’s shoulders to make him recline slightly so that she can move up further into his lap. She moves close enough to rub herself against his cock, so wet that she slides over him. Zayn’s hands move to her hips, holding up the material of her dress so that he can see between her legs, his eyes now fixated on the way Perrie is moving. There’s not enough friction to get him off, but God, her wetness is arousing on it’s own. 

Perrie’s fingers press against Zayn’s shoulders, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Her clit is swollen, sensitive, and she can feel another orgasm building as she rubs herself off against Zayn’s cock. Desperately, she grinds her hips harder, beginning to tremble, her thighs gripping the sides of Zayn’s.

“I’m coming-” she whimpers seconds later, hips stuttering as she cries out, this orgasm even harder than the first. Zayn is panting, watching her, his thighs wet, his eyes wide, his cock twitching. Perrie’s skin has flushed pink and her nipples are hard. Without another thought he leans forward to take one into his mouth again, Perrie sobbing with pleasure above him. 

“Ride me?” he breathes against her skin, his hands moving beneath her dress to touch her bottom, lifting her up and pulling her forward so that she is hovering over his cock. Perrie has one hand in his hair again, holding him against her breast, and the other moves to take his erection in her hand, to guide him into her body. 

“OhmyGod-” she sighs as Zayn fills her, his own shuddering moan pressed to her skin. Perrie is almost cradling his head to her chest, her now free hand stroking the tensed muscles of his bicep as he grips her bottom, kneading the muscles with his fingers, lifting her slightly, groaning as her muscles flutter around his aching dick. 

“Perrie-” he groans, rocking up, pushing into her. “Please-”

Perrie lets out a noise that is almost a laugh, rolling her hips, rising up an inch at most, desperate to keep him as deep inside her as possible. It is a slow rhythm, rolling up, grinding down, pressing her still sensitive clit against the base of his cock, whimpering with each shock of pleasure it causes. Zayn’s tongue flicks against her nipple, his breathing hard and heavy, still kneading her bottom. 

“OhGod-” Perrie sighs again, leaning forward and pulling at Zayn’s hair to make him pull back, his lips leaving her nipple, his eyes black and his lips swollen slightly. “Kiss me,” Perrie commands, whimpering as their lips meet in a deep, hard kiss. She can taste the unfamiliar sweetness in Zayn’s mouth and it makes her muscles clench, their kiss stifling Zayn’s moan. Perrie picks up her pace then, moving faster, riding Zayn’s cock. He lifts up to meet hers as she sinks down, their bodies coming together hard and rough, both of them panting against each other’s lips. Perrie is relishing the tight grip Zayn has on her bottom, his hands guiding her, her clit rubbing too briefly against his pubic bone when she sinks down on him. It’s tantalising, she feels sparks every time, bigger and brighter as she gets closer and closer again. 

Zayn’s mind is swimming, bursts of pleasure shooting through him every time Perrie sinks down and it’s a gloriously long plateau before his orgasm hits him hard. 

“Fuck, Perrie-” he groans, clinging to her, holding her to his chest as his hips buck up and he fills her. The motion of his body beneath her, the way he grinds up against her presses against her clit again, drawing one more shuddering orgasm from her. Both of them purr softly, Perrie’s muscles gripping Zayn’s cock, drawing out the last tremors of his own orgasm and Perrie’s body feeling unwound and relaxed, weak. 

But Zayn’s arms are around her, holding her close when their lips meet again, softer and slower than before, deep but languid kisses coupled with light touches, their fingers moving over each other, touching heated, sweaty skin. 

“You’re beautiful,” Zayn breathes between kisses, his fingertips fluttering over her stomach.

Perrie smiles, laughing softly. She believes him.


End file.
